


I don't think you're ready for this jelly

by Thankyoumissvanjie (caringis_notanadvantage), TheArtificialDane



Series: The Brightest Timeline [24]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caringis_notanadvantage/pseuds/Thankyoumissvanjie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtificialDane/pseuds/TheArtificialDane
Summary: His phone had exploded last night, the thing actually vibrating itself off the coffee table, Brooke only noticing when he had heard the bang. He had put his book down, picking up his phone, only to see message after message ticking in at the speed of light, everyone and their mother tagging him in a video of Vanjie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BarbieHytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbieHytes/gifts).

> Here for a good time, not for a long time! This is our journey into whenever or not ThankyoumissVanjie can bully Dane into writing something that is actually angst(ish)
> 
> Dedicated to Barbiehytes!

_ Vanjie moves her phone away from her face. She’s standing on the stage at Mickey’s, the signature sparkling silver behind her. She’s wearing a long brown wig, an oversized t-shirt that has been tied at the waist with Silky’s face on it, and a pair of denim shorts.  _

_ “Everyone!” Vanjie turns around, suddenly filming with a club audience in the background. “Say hi to the Insta hoes at home!” Vanjie smiles, the audience cheering and waving, her teeth blindingly white. “Jason!” Vanjie yells, looking around. “Jason, come on over here and film for me!” _

_ Jason pops up on the screen, a small smile on his face. _

_ “Thank you sweetie.” _

_ Jason laughs. He takes the phone from Vanjie and turns it around, the focus now back on the small stage. _

_ “Tonight!” Vanjie smiles, throwing out her arm, A’keria walking up next to her. A’keria is in a curly black wig, wearing the same t-shirt. “Here at Mickey’s, you and I, all of us here, we gonna be celebrating the thiccest bitch in the business!” _

_ Silky walks on stage, and everyone cheers. Silky is in silver sparkling pants, the same t-shirt, and pageant styled brown wig. _

_ “It’s my birthday week bitches!” Silky laughs as she moves from side to side, doing a little dance number, not even noticing that A’keria is popping lawn chairs up on the stage behind her. _

_ “Now!” Vanjie smiles. “We need some volunteers, cause there ain’t no better way to celebrate a birthday, then by doing a lil lap dance! Now who is ready to hump on Miss Silks?!” _

_ Silky screams, enjoyment radiating from her as hands from the audience fly up. Vanjie chooses a guy from Silky. _

_ “And I think-” A’keria looks around, a smirk on her face. “I’ll do a little show for,” A’keria points down at a man. “You.” _

_ “Vanjie!” Silky yells from her cheer. “You best be moving on over here to shake that ass like the rent is up!” _

_ The audience cheers, everyone laughing and the start chanting ‘dance dance dance’ at Vanjie. _

_ “Fuck no!” Vanjie smiles, yelling right back. “I ain’t shaking no tatas!” _

_ A man from the front of the audience pulls his shirt up, and Vanjie laughs. “You cute boo, but I said no.” _

_ “That’s too bad.” The man says, pulling his shirt off fully. “You’re really hot.” _

_ “You can’t say shit like that.” Vanjie laughs, holding up her hand. “I ain’t got no ring, but I’mma married h-” Vanjie is about to say more, but the guy grabs her hand and puts it on his stomach, Vanjie feeling his abs. _

_ Vanjie opens her mouth, looking like she’s about to say something, but she just gapes, a blush rising in her cheeks before he pulls her hand back like she’s been burned. _

_ “Shit!” Vanjie runs behind Silky to hide, everyone laughing. _

///

Brooke woke up to the sensation of a hand around his cock, Vanjie’s lips attached to his neck, the heavy scent of perfume all around him, and Brooke drowned in the sensation of his man.

///

“Ouch.” Vanjie winched, sucking the thumb he had just burned on the frying pan, the four sunny side eggs he was attempting to make looking up at him, taunting him. 

“You sure you don’t wanna order Postmates baby?”

“What kinda bitch orders breakfast?” Vanjie scoffed, though he knew exactly what kind of bitch that did it, Vanjie himself one of them until he had moved in with Brooke. 

“You just eat your food and stop acting a fool.” Vanjie served it up, careful not to spill anything. Vanjie picked up the plates, turning around, only to see A’keria sit there with a shit eating grin.

A’keria was staying with them, and Vanjie felt wonderfully adult with the fact that he was someone who had an apartment that was big enough for friends to come stay in his guest room. 

It was Silky’s birthday weekend, the ho demanding a full celebration lasting from Thursday to Sunday, Mickey’s decked out in his honor, and as his best friends, A’keria and Vanjie had joined him for the show, another performance of what they had prepared already coming back that night. 

“Oh boo.” A’keria laughed, covering his mouth as he chewed. “This is umh…”

“What?”

“My nephew does a better breakfast than this,” A’keria smiled, putting down his fork, “and he a literal child.”

Vanjie looked down at his plate, and he had to admit that A’keria was right, everything looking less than appetizing.

“Where your man at, ain’t he the chef of the house?” A’keria checked his phone, the time well after noon, but as Drag Queens that was more normal than not. A’keria opened the Postmates app, a smirk on his face, and Vanjie laughed.

“Actually, he didn’t even come to the club last night, did he?”

“He got a new book.” Vanjie stood up, grabbing both of their plates, emptying them into the trash can, his newly appointed adult points disappearing with the food. “Got his nose all up in those pages, reading ‘bout dragons and shit.” 

It felt absolutely ridiculous that Brooke would ditch on a night out to read about Game of Thrones, whatever the author was called finally publishing the next book, but Brooke had lost his absolute shit when it had been announced. He had raved to Vanjie about it on the phone, Vanjie nearly choking several times as he tried to hold back a laugh.

“So what you saying is,” A’keria took a drink of the coffee that Vanjie had managed not to screw up, the brand new coffee machine a gift from Brooke’s brother that had been shipped in as a gift for their house warming, “That your man comes home after 5 weeks of filming Drag Race-"

“Kiki!” Vanjie turned around. “You ain’t supposed to know that.”

“Come on Vanj.” A’keria raised an eyebrow. “It don’t take no genius to figure out when your boo is missing.”

Vanjie guessed he was right, the filming dates of Drag Race Canada one of the worst kept secrets in the gay world, since it was practically impossible for Brooke to hide where he was and when since he was so public the rest of the year. 

“My point is.” A’keria smiled. “That your man comes home, and instead of going out to celebrate Silky’s birthday-”

“Ain’t Silky’s birthday just yet-”

“He stays home to read? Vanj,” A’keria sighed, pointing his finger. “Y’all are too young to be lesbians.”

///

Brooke was fine. He was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

He had come home yesterday, flying in from Toronto and heading home directly from the airport. 

He had unlocked the door, Riley running to greet him and Brooke had felt a deep rush of gratitude for his life. He had gone to haunt for the cats, finding Henry curled up in A’kerias suitcase in the guestroom, and Apollo with his paws full of glitter in the living room, Vanjie, A’keria and Silky apparently all getting ready together in a chaos of empty bottles of alcohol and makeup everywhere, Brooke hearing yells from the kitchen where he had found three tipsy queens all sharing a pizza.

He had kissed Vanjie goodbye, his boyfriend texting him while he had been on the plane, had practically even begged him to come to the club, but Brooke had begged off, the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of thirsty gays on a night that was all about Silky clearly outweighing the joy he got from watching Vanjie perform.

He had taken a shower, Vanjie’s products everywhere, his body practically dead from five long weeks of being on his feet and in heels, filming Drag Race Canada a massive undertaking that took its toll out of him, but the paycheck and especially the legacy was more than worth it. 

Brooke had carved a little space for himself in the living room, enjoying the fact that literally no one else was around, burrowing down between the messes the dream girls had left behind, a glass of wine poured, pants off, as he opened his book, his phone completely forgotten as he dove headfirst into one of his favorite fantasy worlds.

Brooke groaned, turning over, his chest almost feeling like a black hole, a sour taste in his mouth. He had pretended to still be asleep when Vanjie had woken up, could hear A’keria and Vanjie talk from down the hall, their voices easily traveling from the kitchen. Normally, it would make him smile, but today, it was just grating. 

His phone had exploded last night, the thing actually vibrating itself off the coffee table, Brooke only noticing when he had heard the bang. He had put his book down, picking up his phone, only to see message after message ticking in at the speed of light, everyone and their mother tagging him in a video of Vanjie.

Brooke reached for his phone now, Vanjie plugging it into the wall for him even as he had come home drunk, Brooke waking up when Vanjie had put his hands in his sweats, the sex between them hot and messy and more angry than Brooke wanted to admit, the pictures haunting his mind. 

He unlocked his phone, his bad mood continuing as his social media was just as clocked with notifications, pictures from the live everywhere he looked.

///

“Bitch why you acting-” Vanjie snorted, A’keria as always hilarious as he told a story from a local pageant in Texas, the two friends laughing together, their new breakfast of waffles and berries shared between them, when the door to the kitchen opened.

“Brock?” 

Vanjie smiled, his boyfriend walking into the kitchen in sweatpants, his chest bare, his blonde hair a curly mess on top of his head. Brooke gave him a sweet kiss, Vanjie humming into the minty fresh goodness, Brooke walking to the fridge to get himself a bowl a yoghurt.

“You good Miss Brooke Lynn?” A’keria watched, his eyebrow slightly raised, and Vanjie guessed that there was a point to the question. Brooke did look a little worse for wear, Vanjie so distracted by his chest that he hadn’t even noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“You didn’t even come out last night, and your fine ass-”

“Hey!” Vanjie squacked, A’keria ignoring him completely. “That’s my fine ass, not yours.”

“-Is still looking more hungover than a Queen at Drag Brunch.”

“I’m fine.” Brooke sat down, bowl in hand, Vanjie moving a little as Brooke settled in on the bench they had installed in their kitchen.

“You sure toes?” Vanjie looked at Brooke. “You don’t look too good.”

“Are you saying I’m ugly?” Brooke smiled, and Vanjie hit him, flat palm against his arm.

“No!” Vanjie yelled, making Brooke laugh. “Noooo.” Vanjie whined, throwing himself theatrically against Brooke’s side. “You hotter than a hot chocolate on a summer day.”

Brooke chuckled, and Vanjie smirked, enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend, Brooke digging into his breakfast, but Vanjie’s curiosity had been teased, and he had never been one to leave anything well alone.

“You sure you don’t feel bad? You ain’t got a fever, baby?”

“I just slept a little weird-”

Vanjie wrinkled his brow, Brooke fine when he had crawled into bed last night, a little tipsy as he had woken his man up without turning on the lights. He had run his hands all over Brooke’s body, the two of them kissing and touching, learning each other again, Brooke holding him down and fucking him just right, his boyfriend deliciously cruel, Vanjie bouncing into his second orgasm of the night on his lap, his hips decorated with blooming bruises, Brooke gripping him in a desperate attempt to keep quiet as A’keria slept.

“But I’m fine,” Brooke continued. “I’m great,”

“Know what I tell my nephew?” A’keria smirked, standing up to make two new cups of coffee. “Liar liar, pants on fire.”

Brooke chuckled, but Vanjie caught a flicker of something in Brooke’s eyes, a quick moment of doubt in his face. “I just need a cup of coffee. Are we hosting a crawl up my ass party?”

“You saying there’s room?” A’keria wiggled his brows, which made Brooke laugh too. 

“Did you see the show?” A’keria took a cup out of one of the cupboards, Vanjie’s face smiling back from it.

“I wasn’t there, remember?” Brooke looked at A’keria, his arm over Vanjie’s shoulder.

“When’s that ever been a problem in the age of Instagram.” A’keria smiled, handing Brooke the first cup. “Your boo did a number alright.”

Vanjie laughed, blushing a little, remembering back to the fact that he had completely malfunctioned at the sight of a stranger's body, a little rush of shame running through him.

“No.” Brooke said, his answer short and shippy, “I haven’t seen it.”

“Do you want me to show you?” A’keria reached for his phone.

“I’ll watch it later.”

Brooke was acting weird, and Vanjie didn’t know why. 

“Did something happen to the dragon lady?” Vanjie whispered, putting his hand on Brooke’s leg under the table, unsure if he was ashamed to talk about it since A’keria was there, Vanjie knowing how much Brooke cared about some of the characters in the books. 

“What?”

“In the book. She died or something?”

“Oh, no. She’s good, it’s all good,”

///

The moment Brooke left the kitchen, muttering something about the gym, A’keria had turned to Vanjie, his eyes lit with a mischievous fire.

“What?” Vanjie raised an eyebrow. 

A’keria pointed at the door, a shit eating grin on his face. “You ain’t gonna comment on Brooke Lynn?”

“He said he didn’t sleep well.” Vanjie shrugged. “You wanna go to the Grove?”

“Not when I got this spectacle to watch.” A’keria smiled, leaning on the table. “I’ve seen toddlers do a better job at lying.”

“Brock doesn’t lie.” Vanjie bit his lip.

“Listen bitch, and Imma only gonna say this once” A’keria held up his hands, “He,” clap “be,” clap “jealous!” clap. “I bet he didn’t like watching someone else making you all cute and fluffy.”

Vanjie felt a rush of warmth down his spine. The idea that Brooke could be jealous was intoxicating. Vanjie felt jealous all the time, whenever a barista gave Brooke anything extra, whenever a fan got too close, whenever a bartender asked for Brooke’s number or a shop assistant took way too long to measure Brooke up.

It was an emotion he tried to control, the scar in Brooke’s palm an ugly reminder of what could happen if he didn’t remember to keep himself in check, but the idea that Brooke cared in that way was absolutely delicious.

“Keeeeeks, get outta here.” Vanjie huffed. “Brock ain’t ever been jealous of anything my ass gone did.” Vanjie stood up, both of them moving to the livingroom together.

If you asked Vanjie, it was actually one of the biggest problems of their relationship, Brooke’s lack of care, or rather how he never noticed, absolutely hurting Vanjie deeply a time or two.

“Only cause you acting more chaste than a maiden.”

“Chaste, what kind of word is that.” Vanjie dumped down on the couch, Brooke apparently tidying everything up last night, their forgotten drag stuff in neat little piles along the wall. “You watching the nerd films too?”

Vanjie grabbed the remote, the idea of a lazy day on the couch actually quite appealing.

“Maybe, but we ain’t talking about me,” A’keria smirked, “we talking ‘bout you and your jealous man.”

There it was again. That word. “I just know how to behave my ass.” Vanjie shrugged, though he so desperately wanted A’keria to continue talking.

To say that he knew how to behave was a nice way to say that Vanjie had zero chill. In his teenhood fantasties, Vanjie had imaginged a guy who would defend him against anything, who would punch a man in the face Sex and the City style. Vanjie had chosen the least jealous person in the entire world to love, and somehow, he had become his own prince in shining armor.

Vanjie had once got in a fight with a guy himself, the man touching his ass in a club, and Vanjie had punched him in the face, the staff pulling them apart before Brooke had even noticed something had happened, his boyfriend drinking a beer in the bar while Vanjie was escorted outside.

“Miss current reigning, high and mighty, was looking like someone kicked her kitty.” A’keria leaned back in the couch. “The kitty is you. If you’re in doubt.”

“As if.” Vanjie scoffed, his cheeks hot.

“You saw his mopey face.” A’keria smiled. “That ain’t got shit to do with any book.”

“Brock got immunity,” Vanjie bit his lip. “Sides, he know he got me on lock down.” Vanjie opened the Hulu app, all his reality TV shows neatly lined up. “I’m ‘a signed and sealed deal with a ride or die sidedish.”

“So you’re tellin’ me he ain’t jealous?” A’keria shuffled, looking at Vanjie. “Not even an itty bitty baby bit?”

“He’s not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Through the power of internet, google docs and not really caring about being at work, Dane and I have managed to write a new chapter, despite her being all over in Japan. Enjoy y'all. <3

Vanjie had tried to let it go, had attempted not to follow A’keria’s trail of thoughts down the rabbit hole, but it was nearly impossible not to at least wonder, when Brooke acted absolutely strange.

A’keria had disappeared for the day to network, time in L.A too precious to waste completely since his friend’s family meant A’keria couldn’t just up and move even if it made sense from a career standpoint. 

Vanjie had expected Brooke to keep to himself, a new book from one of his favorite authors usually stealing him away from Vanjie for days at a time, Brooke staying in bed, invading the couch or even disappearing to the roof with a packet of cigarettes if the story was really good. 

Instead, he had gone to the gym, coming back drenched in sweat. He had taken Riley on a walk that lasted well over an hour, and even cleaned the shower drain, the sounds of music almost distracting Vanjie from the vigorous and angry scrubbing. Vanjie had stayed in the living room, the TV running a marathon of the shows he always seemed to miss on the road, Riley tuckered out next to him. 

It was kinda sexy, the idea that Brooke could even consider caring for him in that way intoxicating, and if the bathroom got cleaned as well, that was only really a bonus from Vanjie’s point of view.

* * *

Brooke was fine. He was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Brooke was scrubbing away on the bathroom tiles, the toothbrush in his hand completely smashed against the porcelain, the smell of bleach strong in his nose. It wasn’t necessary, but whenever he stopped, whenever he took a break, the parts of his mind that he never wanted to visit kept circling back to the shy, surprised looked on Vanjie’s face. 

The conscious part of Brooke’s mind wanted to make it all about the lap dance, but Vanjie had told him about it up front, had sent him a text the moment A’keria had suggested it, his boyfriend asking for permission that Brooke had given without a second thought. It was only right, Brooke doing way worse things from a traditional monogamous standpoint at every single one of his shows, Brooke Lynn an absolutely whore on stage when she threw her body around.

Brooke dipped the toothbrush, a particular angry stain not budging and he scrubbed away. 

It wasn’t about the physical side of it, wasn’t about anything but the look on Vanjie’s face, though Brooke couldn’t admit it to himself, the thought not even entering his mind. He had never realised how much he considered those soft parts of Vanjie his and his alone, and it was unnerving to have a stranger pull that from the man he loved, Brooke burning with something that he didn’t even recognise as jealousy. 

* * *

“Cheers!”

Silky raised her cup, all three girls doing their makeup together around the coffee table. Vanjie used to prefer to get ready alone, but having sisters - _ her sisters _ \- had changed her opinion, the camaraderie and fun of switching shadows and trying shades too great to pass up on.

“Cheers to you too ho!” Vanjie laughed, taking a drink from her red solo cup, A’keria topping them both up from their third bottle of white wine of the night.

“Wooops.” A’keria laughed, the bottle in her hand suddenly empty, the clear liquid in Vanjie’s cup. “There we go.”

“You trying to get me drunk, hoe?” Vanjie looked at A’keria, who just smirked.

“Like you ain’t gonna need a whole lot more.” Silky cackled, “Sides, it’s my birthday for reals for reals. You better be ready to get down!”

“You know me.” Vanjie smiled, her eyebrows drying as she drank. Silky had talked about nothing but her birthday week for months, and Vanjie had every intention of delivering. “Tonight we be givin’ you the best night of your life. You our dream girl, big Silks.”

“Always.” A’keria nodded, her chest bare as she blended her foundation down her neck.

“Y’all making me blush.”

Vanjie chuckled, Silky actually truly looking embarrassed, and Vanjie was so very grateful that she got to be Silky’s friend, that she had been given the gift of showing Silky what a true ride or die actually was.

“We should be proud Vanj.” A’keria smiled, pointing at Silky with her beauty blender. “That ain’t easy though those ten layers of target foundation and sharpies, our boo likes to use.”

Silky gasped, making Vanjie bark with laughter.

“Bitch!” Silky threw a brush, A’keria barely ducking. “Don’t you disrespect! This a real expensive one!”

“So it from Walmart?”

“I’ma whoop your ass!”

Vanjie was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, Silky already standing up, the three of them barely fitting around the coffee table, when they all heard someone clean their throat at the door. 

“Seems like someone missed the doorbell.”

Brooke was leaning against the doorframe, a small smile on his lips, plastic bags in hand, and Vanjie felt her heart skip a beat, her tipsy brain noticing how Brooke’s grey t-shirt was slightly stained with sweat, his hair a mess as he had been deep cleaning the entire kitchen. Vanjie had told the girls that they had to order takeaway for dinner, knowing that she wasn’t allowed anywhere near whatever mood Brooke was working through, not even needing to ask.

“YES!” Vanjie smiled brightly, her mouth running away from her as she had drunkenly yelled out in excitement. “Babe, you a hero.”

Brooke laughed, walking into the room, Silky already pushing their makeup aside to make room for the mountain of postmates Vanjie had ordered.

“You’re only saying that because I’m holding what feels an awful lot like 80 dollars worth of glorified rice.”

“And hopefully chicken too.” A’keria chimed in. “Ain’t nobody but Vanj who can finish 33 of the same thing in a row.” 

“I’m sure it’s all there.” Brooke smirked, and Vanjie got up on her knees, pulling on Brooke’s shirt, making her boyfriend bend over as he put down the food.

“You know I like those good things in life.” Vanjie smiled, her lips inches from Brooke, chapstick shining on them. “Like you.” Vanjie heard Brooke laugh, the warmth against her face one of her favorite things, and then they were kissing, lush, hot delicious lips sliding against each other. 

“Yo! No lip smacking!”

Vanjie pulled away, Silky already digging into the bags.

“Don’t you go ruin my appetite with your nasty asses.”

“It seems like your appetite is doing just fine.” Brooke smiled, looking at the paper plate Silky had already stacked high.

“Are you shading me on my birthday Miss Brooke Lynn? The disrespect!”

“I’d never.” Brooke’s tone was so innocent Vanjie couldn’t help but snort, holding her hand over her mouth, the wine in her blood making her feel hot and happy.

“You joining us tonight?” A’keria looked up at Brooke, the same cheshire expression on her face that Vanjie had seen earlier when she had filled up her cup.

Brooke looked down at himself, the girls almost in full drag and ready to leave, while he was in what could essentially only be described as cleaning clothes.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Vanjie touched Brooke’s leg, her fingers digging into the back of Brooke’s knee. She hadn’t asked if Brooke wanted to come along, and she suddenly felt terrible for not asking him again if he wanted to come, even as Brooke had begged off the original invitation.

“Well get dressed lover boy!” Silky half yelled, “cause you going!”

“I’m not-“ Brooke’s gaze flickered. “I actually have this project in the kitche-“

Vanjie had heard Brooke move the fridge, her boyfriend probably still deep cleaning behind all of their major appliances, but Silky wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s my birthday, and you gotta do as I say.”

* * *

At the best of times, Brooke had at least somewhat of an idea of how he wanted to dress. According to the people online, he never truly succeeded, his favorite looks always picked apart, his absolute favorite hat getting called everything from a witches accessory to farm boy couture, but as Brooke stared into his side of the closet, his body still damp from his shower, he had no idea what to wear.

He usually went for a shirt of some sort, but Mickey’s wasn’t a very posh club, Brooke sticking out like a sore thumb, the one time he had gone for a white dress shirt. He wasn’t however, a club kid either, the mesh shirts he had tried a time or two not fitting either.

It was incredible that anyone could have a closet so filled with hand picked designer goods, and still have nothing to wear. If Brooke had been a smarter man, he would have realised that he was looking for the outfit that would ensure that Vanjie’s eyes stayed on him all night, but Brooke wasn’t smart, the man instead antagonising over decision after decision, none of them seeming right.

“You ready?”

Brooke turned, seeing Vanjie who was standing in the door, his boyfriend looking like absolute perfection in an outfit that would have made Rihanna proud. She was in thigh high bright orange boots, denim hot pants hugging the perfect ass, a crop top pushing the illusion of titties, while a long orange jacket, and heavy gold jewelry gave it that Vanjie flair.

“Why you standing there all naked?” 

Vanjie smirked, leaning against the door of the bedroom, her eyes bright, her gaze slithering over Brooke’s body, clearly enjoying what she was seeing, completely ignoring the towel, and Brooke suddenly felt lighter, stronger, better.

“Do you want to dress me?”

“.. What?” Vanjie looked at Brooke, surprise clear on her face. “You gonna wear whatever I want?” Vanjie’s entire demeanor had changed, Brooke’s boyfriend practically vibrating like a puppy.

“Whatever you want.”

“Even the Balmain?”

“Even that.” Brooke smiled, the ridiculous jacket one Vanjie had brought home from abroad, Brooke not wearing it once.

“Vanj,” Silky yelled from the living room. “Hurry up! We gotta selfie while the makeups still fresh”

“I’m busy!” Vanjie yelled over her shoulder, closing the door behind her, completely ignoring Silky


	3. Chapter 3

“Sorry, sorry! We here!” Vanjie crawled into the Uber, fitting three Drag queens into any car always a struggle, even if it was an Uber X - It was Silky’s birthday after all. 

“Brooke just gotta make sure Riley is good in the bathroom.” Vanjie sat down, buckling her seatbelt.

“We good.” Silky grumbled. “I’ma just take a nap, not like we got a booking or nothing.”

“Don’t act.” Vanjie smiled, pushing against Silky who was sitting in the middle. “We gonna work it out.”

“Work it out for sure.” A’keria placed her phone against her thigh, looking over at Vanjie. “You feeling proud of your daring lil plan?”

“What plan?” Vanjie caught a look at A’keria’s face, a giant smirk playing on her sister's lips. “Silky the one who asked Brooke to come.”

“Bitch-” Silky snorted, the other queen practically laying down since her wig was so big. “You know exactly what you doing getting Brooke into that jacket.”

Vanjie smiled, pleasure curling in her belly. “Maybe…” Vanjie loved playing stylist, dressing Brooke up one of her favorite hobbies, her late night hotel shopping baskets almost always filled with at least two things for Brooke.

“You know he hates it, right?”

“What?!” Vanjie whipped around. “No! He loves it, I got it for his birthday and everything.”

It was one of the first gifts Vanjie had ever given Brooke, and as she thought back, she realised that Silky might have a point, dread collecting in her stomach. Brooke had opened the gift, had said thank you and kissed her, but his face had looked a little strange. Vanjie had assumed that he was simply embarrassed about the fact that she had given him a designer item, but had she been wrong this entire time?

“I hate to tell you boo, but how many times have you seen him wear it?”” A’keria leaned against the backrest. “He hates that jacket more than doing an acting challenge without Nina,” 

“He just ain’t had no officiata occasions to wear it at.” 

Vanjie loved the jacket. She had found it in a second hand shop in New York, the soft leather and the fun pattern of treated leather immediately reminding her of the more funky pieces Brooke had picked himself for his wardrobe.

“Babe, there is one reason, and one reason only Brooke would ever wear that” Silky reached out, touching Vanjie’s leg, that part of her body the only thing she could reach at the angle she was in. “Your boo is jealous,”

Vanjie crossed her arms, her friends absolute idiots. “Brooke never gets jealous”

It stung to say the words, but they were true. 

In the beginning, Vanjie had tried to make Brooke jealous, had done things that left a sour taste in her mouth, but it had all been so small that Brooke hadn’t even registered it, Vanjie giving up and shutting it down, no matter how much her heart, the one that had been raised on Hollywood dramas and dramatic declarations of love, craved it.

They heard a door slam, all three of them turning to see Brooke walk down the stairs from their apartment.

“Then riddle me this, riddle me that.” A’keria pointed. “Why is he wearing all the things you like tonight?”

Brooke was wearing the black Balmain, black jeans, and a mesh t-shirt, and Vanjie had to admit that he looked good. Really really good.

“Not even a hat in sight.” Silky chimbed in. “When was the last time you saw that?”

Vanjie was about to open her mouth, was about to say that Brooke had actually expanded his wardrobe quite a bit.

“Boy hates being without a wig, or any of those american horror story hats he likes-” A’keria smiled, clearly buzzing on the fact that Vanjie only grew more and more annoyed.

“Bitch-”

“Or god forbid.” Silky sighed, folding her hands on her stomach. “That motherfucking gruesome beanie.”

“Hey.” Brooke had opened the door to the car, slipping into the front seat. He turned around, the Uber pulling out of the driveway.

“What are we talking about?”

Brooke waited a beat, then another one, none of the girls answering, all three as quiet as the grave.

///

Brooke was in a strange mood. 

They had arrived at the club together, Vanjie, Silky and A’keria disappearing in a cloud of giggles, Vanjie giving Brooke a quick kiss before they had gone backstage.

Brooke knew he was welcome, knew that his sisters that worked at Mickey’s loved seeing him, even if it wasn’t expected, but he didn’t feel like going backstage tonight. 

Instead, he had sat at the bar, his favorite bartender Nick serving him a beer, the two of them chatting back and forth, Brooke’s mood actually getting better and better as he shot the shit with someone he at least considered an acquaintance. 

Vanjie often made fun of how Brooke always seemed to know the name of everyone who worked staff wherever they were when it came to Drag, but for Brooke that was part of the profession. It was important that everyone had a good impression of you, that you were attentive and pleasant, that you got along with everyone. 

It was one of the most important lessons besides hard work that ballet had taught him, because at the end of the day, a smile is always better than talent.

On the other side of the club, Morgan had just finished her number, the Mickey’s host announcing on the microphone that she was getting ready to give up the stage, so Brooke grabbed his beer, and two bottles of water, making his way, Morgan holding his regular chair open for him.

///

_ The camera focuses on the stage, where Vanjie, Silky and A’keria are standing side by side. They’re all wearing matching outfits, their t-shirts one with a giant Silky face that most of all looks like the sun from Teletubbies. _

_ “Now!” A’keria speaks into the microphone. “I see a lot of familiar faces in the audience.” A’keria smirks, and the crowd cheers. “Have you guys come back for one thing and one thing only?” A’keria doesn’t wait for a reply, instead continuing to talk.  _

_ “There are only two queens in the world that celebrates their birthday’s more than once. One is Beyoncé” The crowd laughs, “and the other, is the woman, the queen, the legend, that all of you are going to give it up for in a minute!”  _

_ Vanjie steals the microphone out of A’kerias hand. She’s clearly drunk, happy and bouncy. “This is part deuces!” _

_ “Uh,” A’keria pulls the mic back. “She international.” _

_ Vanjie pulls, putting it back to her mouth. “The dirtier, and messier sequel, now are you all ready to throw it the fuck down for the guest of honor, one!” Vanjie yells, “more! Time!!” _

///

_ On stage, Silky is performing a song, but the camera is pointed to the left of the stage, slowing zooming in. The light adjusts, and the camera catches Vanjie who’s sitting on Brooke’s lap, the man in one of the fold up chairs that Mickey’s put out. Vanjie is snapping and yelling, clearly enjoying Silky’s number, a bottle of water in her hand, Brooke gently touching her elbow, Vanjie drinking from it while still snapping, Brooke laughing. _

///

_ “Girl! Get your ass out of there!” _

_ A’keria laughs, grabbing Vanjie’s hand to pull her from her seat on Brooke. Vanjie goes on stage, and does a little bow. _

_ “I was just enjoying the show!” Vanjie yells. _

_ “You enjoying something else too.” Silky adds on, wiggling her brow, which makes Brooke laugh so hard in the audience that he nearly chokes on his beer. _

_ “Speaking of enjoying yourself.” A’keria smirks. “We’ve made it to that point of the evening ladies and gentlemen!” _

_ The audience cheers. _

_ “We need to find the birthday girl someone who can make that pussy fart!” _

///

Vanjie was warm and happy, the shots in her blood nearly gone. Brooke had forced her to drink water, Vanjie acting a little more drunk than she was since she loved basking in Brooke’s attention.

“Any takers?!”

A’keria yelled, and Vanjie looked out at the audience, the crowd amazing, their energy fantastic, and Vanjie was riding the wave of it.

“Y’aaaaall,” Silky laughed, looking embarrassed, but Vanjie knew better, Silky living for the attention.

“Shut up Silks, and be grateful that we’re workin’ this hard to get your fat ass laid,” A’keria looked out on the audience. “Because it ain’t no easy task.”

Vanjie snorted, barely hiding her mouth behind her hand, Silky huffing and puffing.

“Now we looking for someone attractive!”

“Right over there.” Vanjie pointed at Brooke, pleasure washing over her as Brooke’s eyes widened, her boyfriend laughing, the bachelorette party right next to him all nearly losing it.

“We looking for one for me!” Silky smirked. “Not for you.”

“I see a nice triple threat right over there!”

Vanjie turned her head, following A’kerias finger.

“He got the muscles, he got the beard and Mama, look at that ass.”

Vanjie froze, the man the same one from the night before, and as whipped to A’keria, she knew she knew. A’keria had probably found him in the audience, had planned it, Brooke sitting less than a foot away from the entire thing.

“Actually, you look mighty familiar.”

“Hey.” The man spoke into the microphone, looking directly at Vanjie.

A’keria wiggled her brows, all of it absolutely planned. Vanjie looked around, actually feeling trapped. She searched for Brooke, but he was gone, the seat he had been in completely empty.

///

Brooke had never been happier with the fact that everyone at Mickey’s knew him. 

His feet had carried him backstage, his hand opening the stage door and stepping outside, containers all around him, the smell of garbage mixed with alcohol, a night club producing their very own special brand of trash, but none of it mattered, since he was alone.

Brooke leaned against the wall, his arm resting on the bricks, his heart hammering away. He felt like throwing up, his world swirling around him. 

“Fuck…” Brooke took a deep breath - in through the nose, out through the mouth, count to five. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

He had run the moment he had recognised the man, had stood up and walked away before he had even set foot on the stage.

Brooke had seen everything crumble in an instant. Had seen his relationship with Vanjie fall apart. Had seen their apartment all packed up, their animals getting seperated, Vanjie’s things no longer sitting next to his in the shower. 

He had seen a world where morning coffees and trips to the gym no longer existed, a world where he traveled without Vanjie by his side, a world where no one kicked him in his sleep, a world where he was all alone, Vanjie off with someone else, and Brooke was left behind.

///

“You seen where Brock went?” Vanjie hissed, her fingers digging into A’kerias arm. They had finished the number, Vanjie actually stepping off the stage and into the audience to get away, the joy of playing with Brooke disappearing the minute he was gone, Vanjie’s warm buzz flying out the window.

“She left?” Silky looked over, a dumb expression on her face, Silky clearly more than happy with the world.

“Yes he left.” Vanjie didn’t want to alert anyone, didn’t want to share how angry she was with her sisters, but she was burning hot, her chest one big knot of simmering hate that was just waiting to spill. “That asshole lef-”

“I think I saw her at the employee exit.” A’keria pointed, and Vanjie realised that of course A’keria was right, Brooke always seeking solitude if anything went even slightly against him.

Vanjie released A’kerias arm. “Thanks.”

Silky and A’keria watched Vanjie walk away, Silky chewing on her lip.

“You think we went too far?”

“Nah.” A’keria crossed her arms. “I saw the look on Miss Brooke Lynn’s face, and our girl is getting that good dick tonight.” A’keria smirked. “I ain’t never seen no one look that green before.”

///

Brooke leaned against the wall, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He had managed to calm down, at least somewhat, his heart no longer beating like crazy. He had taken his jacket off, his body too hot, too uncomfortable, too freaked out, for him to wear it. He had laid it on top of the container next to him, the jacket gently folded.

He had considered calling someone, Brooke actually checking the time to see whenever Angela would be awake, the woman knowing the insecure and scared parts of him better than anyone else, but he had pushed it away, instead lighting one of the cigarettes someone had stashed away behind one of the trash cans. They weren’t his preferred brand, but the nicotine helped, the routine of smoking calming his frayed nerves.

Brooke knew the show had to be over, but he hadn’t checked his phone, not yet ready to face the world, when he saw the door open, a familiar hand showing up, Vanjie following right behind it.

“Brock?” 

“Shit…”


	4. Chapter 4

“Shit…”

Vanjie didn’t know what she had expected to see when she opened the heavy stage door, but what she found was Brooke, her boyfriend leaning against the wall besides a dumpster, the birthday present she had so loving picked out practically thrown in the trash, but worst of all - worst of absolutely all, was the lit cigarette between his fingers.

“... What the fuck?”

Brooke had stopped smoking. From one day to the next, the cigarettes were just gone from their home and their routines. Vanjie had asked Brooke if he needed one on a morning walk with Riley, but he had simply said no, a small smile on his face, some bullshit about how the clouds parted and the sun shined falling from his lips.

Vanjie had believed him, had thought it was a done chapter of their lives, but as she watched the soft orange glow of the lit cigarette, saw the smoke that slowly billowing from Brooke, he had apparently lied about that too. 

“Hey.” Brooke looked at him. He flicked his stub, ash falling from it, but instead of dropping it, instead of putting it out, he brought it to his mouth.

“Thought you stopped?” Vanjie’s knuckles were white, her fingers digging into the doorframe, her press on nails creaking at the pressure as she tried not to freak out, tried not to let the rumble in her chest overtake her.

“Well, I haven’t.”

“Why the fuck you smoking again?”

Brooke breathed out, smoke traveling into the air like steam from an engine, his eyes strange and hard, the look in them not one Vanjie had ever seen before.

“Doesn’t seem like that has anything to do with you.”

Vanjie bristled, the hairs on her arms standing up, the words hitting her like a bucket of water on a cat. “Who else is kissing your ashy ass mouth?”

“Who else is kissing yours?”

“Oh fuck no!” Vanjie released the door, her feet taking her across the alley before the door had slammed shut, the smell of garbage hitting her nose as she reached up.

“Hey!”

She grabbed the cigarette from Brooke’s mouth, pinching it between her nails before she threw it on the ground.

Brooke’s eyes were wide, shock and anger mixed in his features, and Vanjie felt a brief rush of delight down her spine that he no longer dared to be indifferent towards her. 

“This isn’t any of your business.” Brooke growled, his voice low.

“I’m saving your life.” Vanjie pushed his chest with her open palm, the skin warm under the mesh shirt, Brooke bouncing against the wall. “And you best believe I’mma do it again until you got this shit under control.”

They weren’t addressing the elephant in the room, weren’t talking about why Brooke had left, wasn’t discussing the itching under Vanjie’s skin, the terrible feeling that something bad was happening, but they were touching, and that usually made everything better.

“Oh, so you’re ‘saving’ me?” Brooke spat. “The great Vanessa Mateo who’s so fucking clever?” 

Vanjie’s jaw dropped, Brooke’s words quick and venomous and chosen just to hurt her. 

“Don’t you dare-“ 

Brooke knew exactly how sensitive Vanjie was about her intelligence, knew exactly how much it hurt her when someone called her stupid. 

“Fuck you!” Vanjie curled her hand, the threads in Brooke’s shirt snapping under her nails. 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me.”

Vanjie had no idea what micromanaging was, but there was no way she would admit that, their conversation turning into a battleground of right and wrong.

“I don’t give a shit, I’mma mikronmanage your ass any day of the week if you a fucking dickhead.” Vanjie pushed Brooke again. 

She didn’t want to have this fight, didn’t want this to happen when the look in Brooke’s eyes was still so dark, so strange, so very new. 

“I’m not a dickhead-“

“So you fucking off to the dumpster for fun then?” Vanjie spat, hot coal in her chest, her body feeling like a volcano that was about to erupt. “You running away like a little bitch?”

“I don’t revolve around you.”

Vanjie felt it like a slap to the face, Brooke pushing all her buttons, testing her, needling her, and Vanjie was failing spectacularly.

“Fuck you!” Vanjie yelled, tears collecting in her eyes. “Fuck you!” 

Vanjie pushed him, Brooke’s back hitting the wall again, his hand grabbing her first, both of them resting on his chest. “You ain’t no lil kid you can’t do shit like-“

“A kid?” Brooke hissed, his palm tightening over Vanjie’s fist. “Well tell me, Jose, in words I can understand-“ Brooke bared his teeth, Vanjie feeling his breath, how his heart was hammering away, “What happened on that stage?”

Vanjie felt time stop, her stomach twisting, sourness rising in her mouth.

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t a lie. Nothing had actually happened, nothing physical at least, but it was still killing her.

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing asshole!” Vanjie yelled, attack so very often the best defense, “and you would’ve known if your bitch ass didn’t leave!” 

Brooke growled, his hand grabbing her shoulder and flipping them around, pressing her against the wall, Brooke’s body caging her in. 

Vanjie didn’t know who started, but they were kissing, Brooke holding her up, their bodies fighting the battle that their words could not, fear and desperation, anger and hurt all swirling between them, hopes and dreams exchanged in presses of lips and frustrated moans.

Vanjie could feel how scared Brooke was, a desperate, bitter edge to everything he did, the fingers on her thighs digging in, the trembling of his muscles and the arch of his back, the strange sensation of wet on her face something completely new.

They broke apart, and Vanjie could see that Brooke was crying, silent tears spilling from his eyes.

“Fuck you.” Brooke’s voice was just the same, his anger still there, his desperation just as great. “You know what-“

“I ain’t done nothing that wasn’t okay!” Unless you asked Vanjie’s stomach, her insides hard as a rock, her emotions a giant knot of regret. “I asked if I could do the show-“

“That’s not-“

“I asked, and you was cool!” Vanjie growled, her thighs tight around Brooke’s hips, their chests pressed together, one of her heels barely on her foot. “We fucking drag queens-“

“So I can just sit back and enjoy my boyfriend rubbing himself all over some stranger?”

Vanjie felt her world stop, Brooke’s words so incredibly unfair that they physically hurt her. 

“Fuck you-“

“Should I?”

“You a kettle-“ Vanjie looked right into Brooke’s eyes, “-and you’re black as all fuck.”

Brooke faltered, the hardness in his eyes disappearing for just a second, and Vanjie knew exactly why. 

Brooke was a whore when she performed, and Vanjie loved it most of the time. 

Brooke was a force on stage, a wild sexuality that refused to be tamed, Vanjie taking a video or four to bed herself of Brooke dancing when she was all alone, but there were just as many, if not more, of Brooke slithering across a stage, of her almost kissing a fellow performer that wasn’t on their list, countless photos of her spread thighs on a stripper pole.

“That’s different-“

Brooke looked like he had been hit, and he pulled away so fast Vanjie’s back scraped against the bricks. “It’s not, I don’t-“

Vanjie hit the ground, her sock immediately touching something wet and icky.

“That’s different.”

“Oh you wanna play that game?” Vanjie spat, Brooke’s reluctance to see himself grating on her nerves. 

“Watch out everybody!” Vanjie cupped her mouth, making a megaphone, yelling at her lungs full capacity. 

“The big Brock Hayhoe is totally different!” It felt wonderful to call Brooke out, a river of righteousness rushing through her body.

“Everything he does is real cool!” 

“Jose- stop-“ Brooke pulled at Vanjie’s arms, attempted to shut her down, but she refused.

“Cause it’s def not the same!!” Vanjie was pretty sure people on the street could hear her, but she didn’t care.

“He ain’t ever no giant fucking asshole!”

Vanjie felt something cold and slick showed against her arm. She looked down, just to see Brooke’s jacket that had been thrown at her

“Congratulations.” Brooke whispered, his entire face tight and hurt and angry. “You win.”

Vanjie wanted to say something, wanted to yell, wanted to stop him, but Brooke was too quick, the man turning around and slamming the door behind him.

////

A’keria watched as Vanjie dedragged, their friend a hurricane of anger. She had come into the room, practically kicking down the door, yelling from the top of her lungs about how much of an asshole Brooke was.

“You think we gon' too far?" A’keria turned to Silky. “Cause I gotta admit, this ain’t how I saw the cookie crumble.”

"Nah bitch,” Silky smiled. “Our girl gon get that good dick, you know how it goes, a little anger, a lil rage and then it make her hit that whistle tone.”

“You sure about that?” A’keria bit her lip. 

“Ain’t no thing but a chicken wig girl. You stay at my place, and they gonna be fine by morning.”

////

Brooke had been so angry he hadn’t even realised that he had forgotten his keys until he was halfway home. 

He couldn’t remember what he had said, what he and Vanjie had yelled at each other. He could only remember the roar in his ears, the cloud in his brain, the hammering of his heart and the panic that grew and grew until he was choking on it.

Brooke sighed, the back of his head hitting their front door, his keys in the jacket he really hoped Vanjie would bring home with him.

His phone had ran out of battery, his charger on the other side of the door, and there was nothing he could do about it; no one he could call. 

There was only him, and all of his dark, poisonous thoughts. 

He had fucked up. Really and truly fucked up, the cigarettes he had bought to calm down not helping at all, smoke rising from the lit one he hadn’t even raised to his mouth. 

“Hey jerkface.”

Brooke opened his eyes to see Vanjie stand on the stairs. He was in his after performance outfit, black joggers and a tank top, A’keria mysteriously absent, Brooke’s jacket over Vanjie’s arm.

“I want my keys.” Brooke stubbed his cigarette on the floor, standing up and holding his hand out.

“Oh?” Vanjie looked up at him, the energy between them strange and twisted. “Your bitch ass ain’t even gonna say thanks for bringing it?”

Brooke couldn’t find the energy to argue, couldn’t find the will to fire back. He just wanted to sleep, and to stop existing. 

“Just give me my keys.”

Vanjie thrusted the jacket into Brooke’s hands, and Brooke dug his key out, unlocking the door and letting them in. He could feel Vanjie grow more and more angry, his boyfriends energy like a pressure cooker that was nearing boiling.

“I had to haul home from the club all by myself.”

“Seems like you made it just fine.” Brooke dropped his keys, toeing his shoes off, the venom in his voice even surprising himself.

“The fuck you mean by that?” Vanjie closed the door, and Brooke felt it tip over. The energy between them reaching the point where it would be a fight no matter what.

“Nothing.” 

Brooke walked towards their bedroom, even though he knew exactly what he had meant. He had tried, he had really tried to get the thoughts of Vanjie and the guy out of his head, but it had been impossible.

Brooke felt desperate to get away, to find a charger, to have time to make sense of the chaos inside him. 

“I didn’t mean-“

“Nothing ain’t ever meaning nothing with the shit you say.” 

Vanjie grabbed Brooke’s arm, turning him around, and Brooke saw a tenderness, a care in Vanjie’s eyes that terrified him.

“What you wanna implicating-“

“Implicating?” Brooke snorted, pulling at his arm, trying to dislocate Vanjie’s grip. 

He couldn’t let his walls down, couldn’t let himself crumble, couldn’t respond to the kindness with anything but anger, his anxiety promising him that Vanjie would hate him if he opened up.

“That doesn’t make sense."

“I don’t make sense?!”

Brooke realised that he had once again stepped his foot right into the bleeding wound of Vanjie’s self esteem, Vanjie lighting up like a firework, anger and hurt overriding everything else.

“At least I act right! I ain’t no cold ass bitch like you playing these fucked up games-“

“I’m playing games?” Brooke spat, his ride home giving him time to run the night over in his mind. “Oh, right. Right, because that’s what I do. Play games.”

“If you got something to say,” Vanjie hissed, his finger touching Brooke’s chest. “You better fucking say it.”

“I don’t want to-“

“Fuck you Brock!” Vanjie’s voice commanded, demanded, and Brooke had no choice but to bend. “You do shit every week, you do shit every day, and you don’t ever give no fucks when you throw your ass left and right!”

“That’s different.” It was, at least to Brooke. He didn’t care about the people he danced with, didn’t share any of the things he shared with Vanjie, their relationship special and private and theirs, Vanjie’s smiles and his gravely morning voice, the way he rubbed his eyes when he was tired and how he blushed when he was happy Brooke’s to carry and to experience.

“How?” Vanjie pushed him. “How?”

“It just is-“

“How?” Vanjie showed him into the bedroom, and Brooke didn’t have words, didn’t know what to say, couldn’t do anything right, so he did the one thing he knew. 

“Because it feels like shit!” Brooke grabbed Vanjie’s face, kissing him, their bodies meeting once again in the language their mouths could never express. 

///

Vanjie was lying in bed, his head resting on Brooke’s chest. Vanjie was pretty sure Brooke’s shirt had been completely destroyed, the men clawing at each other, anger, hurt and frustration swirling as they had torn each other apart, both of them coming after a desperate rut.

Brooke shuffled slightly, his hands not touching Vanjie when they would normally be petting him, holding him, caressing him.

“Mmh.”

Vanjie didn’t move, not actually giving a shit if Brooke had to pee. Brooke pushed at him, and Vanjie finally groaned, grumbling as he rolled onto his back.

“Bitch, where the fuck you going?”

Vanjie looked up at Brooke, who had gotten out of bed, the man completely naked.

“Going.”

Vanjie waited for a beat, expecting Brooke to elaborate. 

“Going where?”

“Couch.” Brooke grabbed the duvet, and Vanjie sat up on his elbows.

“Baby-“ Vanjie bit his lip. “Don’t be a dumbass-“ He knew they weren’t okay, knew it wasn’t fine yet, but he had truly believed that they had reached a ceasefire. “We ain’t ever done that shit before.”

“Haven’t you always said you wanted a movie romance?” Brooke pulled, and Vanjie felt the cold air as he took the duvet.

“Bitch give that back-“

“Well.” Brooke put it over his shoulder. “Welcome to it.”


	5. Chapter 5

No matter how Brooke twisted or turned, he couldn’t get comfortable. 

He normally loved their couch, loved to lounge on it and watch TV, loved to pet his cats or snuggle up with Vanjie, loved to pull his knees up and curl in on himself for a cat nap, but he couldn’t fall asleep.

He was being a fucking asshole, and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to get up and apologize. He had tried to get his brain to shut up, had sternly told himself to calm down, had even tried to force himself to go say sorry, but no matter what he did, no matter what he tried, anxiety was still crawling all over his body, refusing to let go of him. 

Brooke could still feel Vanjie’s lips on his skin, could still feel his heat under his hands, the taste of him still in his mouth. 

Normally, sex made everything better, made everything right, their bodies able to find each other, speaking the laughing their mouths still couldn’t talk, even after years together, but this time, it hadn’t been enough. 

He wasn’t even wearing underwear, the material of the couch scratching against his ass, his anger so great he had just upped and left, only grabbing their duvet.

Brooke felt like the biggest asshole in the world, the temporary satisfaction of hurting Vanjie, of making sure Vanjie felt just like he did, the brief rush of having the upper hand, of taking back control by force, had only lasted until he had laid down, his chest opening up like a black hole of regret.

He wasn’t proud of it, but a small part of him that always felt suspiciously like all of his teenage insecurities wrapped up in one, had told him over and over again that Vanjie would grow tired of him sooner or later. It said that nothing that was so great ever lasted forever. Asked if Brooke really thought he deserved someone who loved him that much. The voice promising him that Vanjie would one day realise how much of an idiot he was, and how he wasn’t worth it. Brooke knew that there were a lot of things about him that were hard to love, and he had lived with that, more than okay with not being chosen until Vanjie, the voice actually mattering now. 

Brooke had always defended himself against the voice with the knowledge that what he and Vanjie had was special. That he made Vanjie laugh and feel loved, that they had something that was theirs and unique. That he was good enough.

It had all been proven wrong however, when Vanjie had acted just as sweet for another guy. 

Jealousy was one of the worst emotions Brooke had ever felt. He thought he had felt it, the little stabs happening every once in a while, but it had always been so easy to push down, so easy to throw away, but Brooke hadn’t realized that it hadn’t been jealous at all.

He had no idea how Vanjie had ever dealt with feeling like this, the knowledge only make it clearer that there was no way he was worth this much hurt, no way Vanjie could actually love him enough to want to be around someone as broken and damaged as Brooke who made him feel like this. 

Brokke flopped on his back, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes, glittering stars showing in the pitch black at the pressure, his heart speeding up in his chest, blood rushing in his ears.

He tried so hard to calm down, tried so hard to think, to do anything but drown in his emotions, but every time he had almost relaxed, every time he was so close to feeling okay, Vanjie’s nervous little laughed played in his ears, his shy face flashing against the starry background, and Brooke couldn’t let it go.

There was no way he was worth this much to Vanjie, no way that they could fix it, not when he had something better, someone better, someone who could give him what Brooke clearly couldn’t.

Brooke was spiraling, his thoughts only interrupted as he heard the door open. Brooke had expected the patter of paws to follow, for either Riley, Henry or Apollon to show up, but instead it was Vanjie, his boyfriend standing in the door. 

Vanjie had put on a white shirt that was way too big on him, black underwear peeking out underneath. Brooke recognised the shirt as his own, the sight that would normally fill him with warm possessiveness only causing another wave of sticky nauseous and sickly regret.

Would Vanjie want to keep some of his stuff after they weren’t together anymore? Was that something ex’s did?

A small part of him hoped, dreamed, that Vanjie was there to ask him to come back to bed, that he was forgiven and chosen, but as Vanjie opened his mouth, it wasn’t that at all.

“I’m cold as fuck-“ Vanjie was leaning against the door, his lip between his teeth, the streetlights outside barely lighting him. “You took all the blankets.”

Brooke wanted to protest, but he realised Vanjie was right. In his hurry to leave, in the anger that had felt so justified, he had not only grabbed both of their duvet, he had also effectively taken the couch blankets by his destination, forcing Vanjie to stay in the bedroom with nothing at all.

“Here-“ Brooke grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, the knit soft in his hands, before he threw it at his boyfriend, Vanjie catching it, Brooke turning on his side, pulling the duvet up and over his shoulder.

“Seriously?”

Brooke looked back at Vanjie, the blanket unfolded and wrapped around him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I gotta live with the cat blanket?” Vanjie huffed, and Brooke wanted to tell him he was being dramatic, but the words died in his throat, the easy banter no longer his to use. “You ain’t even giving me one of the duvets?”

They hadn’t fought like this since way back in Nashville when Brooke was convinced that breaking up was for the better, the air between them icy cold, every word locked and loaded. Instead, all he had was emptiness, and the knowledge that nothing could fix this. 

“Selfish motherfucker.” Vanjie murmured to himself when Brooke didn’t reply. 

///

_ Selfish motherfucker. _

The words had left him, and Vanjie instantly felt bad, guilt gnawing at his stomach. It had been so satisfying in the moment, the flash of hurt on Brooke’s face an actual reaction from the man that he loved so much, and who refused to give him anything at all. It was one of Brooke’s most infuriating characteristics, the other man shutting down if he felt too much, which was the exact opposite of Vanjie in every single way.

Vanjie waited for something, anything, to come out of Brooke’s mouth, but he was simply quiet, Brooke pulling away and into himself, turning over so he was once again laying on the couch, his face pressed into the cushion and ignoring Vanjie completely. 

“You really sleeping on the couch?”

“That’s the plan.” Brooke huffed, the distant, the distaine, starting the fire in Vanjie’s own chest.

“Don’t play that shit-”

“Jose-” Brooke cut him off, his voice firm and hard. “Can we do this tomorrow, please? I can’t-”

Vanjie stood still, his bare feet getting colder and colder, their hardwood floor feeling like ice as he waited, hoped, dreamed.

“I can’t sleep when we mad…” 

Vanjie knew it was a last resort, knew he was showing the most vulnerable parts of himself as a desperate attempt to get Brooke to pay attention to him, but even then.

He got nothing at all, and Vanjie exploded.

“Fuck you!” Vanjie turned the light on, Brooke jumping as their living room was bathed in light. “You not even gonna answer me?!”

“Turn the light off-” Brooke sat up, Vanjie barely registering that he was naked.

“No!” Vanjie cut him off. “No, no, I don’t accept this shit.”

Brooke looked at him, his hair a mess, deep circles under his eyes, a light sheen of sweat covering his body.

Brooke took a deep breath, their eyes meeting. Had he been crying? “We can’t all get what we want.”

“Bitch-” Vanjie walked into the room, the couch table the only thing separating them. “There ain’t never any version of this that I want-”

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Brooke’s voice was cold, and Vanjie knew he was using those exact words to hurt him, knew Brooke knew how much he hated when his feelings was used against him. 

“You’re the one who won’t even tell me what the fuck we fighting about!”

“I can’t do this-” Brooke groaned, his elbows hitting his knees as he burrowed his head in his hands. 

Vanjie saw his back move, saw Brooke breath, could see how much he attempted to stay calm, but Vanjie didn’t want calm, he wanted the truth.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I can’t watch you with someone else!”

///

“What?” Vanjie had frozen completely, his eyes wide. “I don’t give a fuck about him. It was only-”

“Only what?”

“It was just fun.” Vanjie’s voice was soft, hurt. Vanjie took a step forward, another one following before he sat down on the couch next to Brooke. “Why you freaking this hard? You practically stripping on the weekly.”

Vanjie was right, and Brooke was a hypocrite, he knew that. Brooke Lynn was a whore, most of his acts more sexual and sensual than anything Vanjie did, but this was different. 

“I can’t-” 

“You do that shit all the time.”

It was the worst possible thing Vanjie could have said, Brooke’s brain flushing into full panic.

“I need water-” Brooke stood up, the duvet falling from his body but he didn’t even notice. He simply walked to the kitchen, desperate to get away. 

There was no way Vanjie was staying with him, no way he’d be able to put up with Brooke, no way Vanjie would be willing to go through this pain for him, and it was only a matter of time, only a matter of words before Vanjie told him that they were breaking up, Brooke’s heart hammering in his chest. 

“Brock!” Vanjie followed after him, Brooke running on autopilot as he opened the cupboard and took a glass out.

“What the fuck- What are you doing-”

“Water.” Brooke couldn’t say any more, his hand turning the tap on.

“Okay what’s going on? You’re acting like somebody gone done died.”

A flash of Vanjie’s casket lit up in Brooke’s mind. He guessed that was essentially what was happening. A funeral for their relationship.

“Brock-”

Brooke took a sip of water. Would Vanjie want an open casket? If he died? Maybe if Brooke was lucky he’d be still allowed to Vanjie’s funeral after they broke up. Brooke wondered briefly if anyone would know what outfit Vanjie wanted to wear if he was run over by a car, but he guessed that Annabell would still be in Vanjie’s life.

“Brock-”

Actually. Vanjie would probably want to be cremated. Though it was hard to predict when the theatrical side of his boyfri- of his ex boyfriend jumped out.

“Don’t ignore me asshole!”

“I can’t-” Brooke’s hand was shaking. He needed a break, needed a chance to think, his brain feeling like it was about to burn down. “I can’t be in this-”

“You think I can?!” Vanjie yelled, and there it was.

Brooke felt his knee buckle, the glass slipping from his hand.

///

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Vanjie had heard the glass, neither of them wearing shoes and he ran to the light switch, flicking it on. 

He saw Brooke on the floor, crouched down, his boyfriend unable to breath as he was having a full on panic attack. The glass was rolling off to the side, thankfully unshattered, but Vanjie’s attention was instantly pulled back to Brooke as he heard a loud gasp. 

Brooke was hyperventilating, and freaking himself out even more, holding his head as he was crouching naked on the kitchen floor.

“Fuck-“ Vanjie ran over, falling to his knees in front of Brooke. “Baby-”

“Don’t look at me!” Brooke choked, the words nearly killing him but Vanjie grabbed his shoulders, knowing that Brooke needed him more than ever.

“Breath.” Vanjie squeezed him tight. “Breath baby.”

Brooke was still freaking out, tears and snot streaming down his face, and Vanjie was scared this was going seriously wrong.

“Breath you fucking asshole!” Vanjie shook him, forgetting every single thing he had ever read, but it worked, Brooke taking a deep, shuddering gasp, gulping air in. 

“Follow me stud. Just follow me.” 

Brooke nodded, and Vanjie breathed with him, bringing Brooke down, following him the entire way to the end of his spiral, until they were sitting together, both of them quite, though Brooke was still crying.

“You okay?”


	6. Chapter 6

_ “You okay?” _

Vanjie gently ran his thumb over the soft flesh of Brooke’s inner thighs, his hands resting on Brooke’s legs as he held his boyfriend who had finally stopped sounding like he was going to choke to death, his breath almost back to normal.

“Mnmh.”

Brooke wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, trying to hide the fact that there were still tears trickling, not looking Vanjie at all as he wiped his nose too. Normally Vanjie would get pissed off that Brooke wasn’t looking at him, that he was barely acknowledging that he was there, but Brooke was always a mess after a panic attack and he could see how clearly he needed the space to center himself and collect the pieces of who he was.

“Brock? You okay?”

“Never felt more attractive in my life.” 

Brooke’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it was a reply, and that was all he needed. 

Vanjie smiled slightly, Brooke’s deadpan answer so like him and so like how he dealt with bad stuff, the need for an ironic distance never really one he had understood. Despite the almost harsh reply, Vanjie was just relieved and happy that they weren’t yelling at each other anymore, this whole thing at least something he knew he could work with.

“You hurt?” Vanjie tightened his grip slightly, making sure that Brooke could feel him.

“Except my pride?” Brooke bit his lip, his eyes still nailed to the floor. 

“Brock…” Vanjie released his thigh, running a hand through Brooke’s hair and forcing him with a gentle tug to look at his face, but Brooke refused him. Vanjie could see the tear tracks that were marked on Brooke’s face, his cheeks pink with exhaustion. 

“Babe…” Vanjie put his hand on Brooke’s forehead, his man practically burning up, the skin hot to the touch. “You’re hot.”

“Didn’t know naked grown men who had panic attacks in the middle of the night was your secret kink.” Brooke huffed and mumbled, but he still leaned on Vanjie’s, allowing him to stay close.

“Don’t be a jackass.” Vanjie bumped his palm against Brooke’s head, the other man groaning.

“Sorry..” Brooke whispered, Vanjie almost unsure if Brooke wanted him to hear the words, but he had all the same. They sat for a second, time passing until Brooke finally looked up. 

His blue eyes were bloodshot, the exhaustion clear on his face. The panic attack and their fight had left Brooke completely drained, not an ounce of anger left in him, the only thing Vanjie could see in his eyes was regret so bitter he swore he could taste it.

“Papi, I-”

“No.” Vanjie cut Brooke off, tightening his grip on his thigh with the hand that wasn’t still on his forehead. Vanjie had felt his own anger stir the moment Brooke had opened his mouth, the compassion and care he felt for his boyfriend apparently not so heartfelt that Brooke couldn’t fuck it all up if he said the wrong thing. 

Brooke’s eyes widened, his lips pressed together, and Vanjie could see how genuinely surprised Brooke was, the other man clearly not expecting to be cut off after his first apology.

“Tomorrow. Okay?” Vanjie looked at Brooke. He had no idea what he’d do if they started shouting again, had no idea how he’d deal with whatever an exhausted Brooke could say and then immediately regret, Vanjie already hating everything he himself had thrown Brooke’s way now that he was no longer furious. “We both said too much shit we don’t mean tonight.” 

Brooke nodded, the other man clearly agreeing with Vanjie’s statement. They sat for a while once again, Vanjie only now realising that his heart had started to beat normally again, his worry for Brooke causing it to hammer away the entire time they had talked.

Even though Vanjie had cut him off, it was once again Brooke that broke the silence.

“What…” Brooke bit his lip. “What should we do now then?” 

The only other times they had fought this hard, this viciously, they had always taken a break.

Brooke had hid in Nashville when he had thought they had broken up, Vanjie had run away like a coward on the cruise and had actually fled the country after DXP, but here and now those strategies felt ridiculous, Vanjie’s hand on Brooke’s leg tying them together in a way they had never tried before after being so mean, so cruel to one another.

“Come back to bed?” Vanjie looked at Brooke. “Please?”

Brooke nodded, and Vanjie smiled. He got up, pulling his boyfriend with him, actually getting out of the kitchen a bit of an affair since neither of them had the energy to clean up the glass, Brooke shutting the door tight behind them so the animals couldn’t get to the mess.

///

Brooke hadn’t thought that the night could get much more awkward then when he had broken down like a naked baby in front of the man he hoped was still actually his boyfriend, yet, putting on underwear and then not knowing what to do somehow felt a million times worse.

Vanjie had gone to the living room to pick up their duvets, Vanjie curled on his own side of the bed, but Brooke had no idea how to act. He wanted to lay down, wanted to curl up next to Vanjie, but it felt like he hadn’t earned that, shame a heavy weight in Brooke’s stomach.

Now that he was no longer on the verge of a breakdown, Brooke not even realising that he had actually been in one long anxiety spiral since the club, his worry that Vanjie was going to break up seemed petty and most regrettably very very silly.

Vanjie was the definition of loyal, the other man standing by the people he loved through thick and thin.

Vanjie wasn’t a cheater, his self imposed rules so much more rigid than anything Brooke could ever dream of forcing himself to live with, yet Vanjie did it without a second thought.

He was an absolute asshole, a fucking idiot, and while Vanjie was most likely not going to break up with him to be with the man from the club, there was a very big chance that this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, all of Brooke’s messy and disgusting baggage finally too much for Vanjie to carry. 

“Why you just standing there?”

“I don’t…” Brooke took a breath through his nose. “I don’t know what to do.”

Vanjie raised an eyebrow. “You need instructions on how to lay down and sleep?”

“Can I touch you?”

“If you angling for sex, this don’t feel like the time-”

“Not sex, I-” Brooke hated vocalising his feelings, hated talking about his emotions, everything in him twisting and turning as he tried to be brave for Vanjie, but most importantly for himself. “I just want to know if- Can I touch you, or are we too mad at each other?”

Brooke saw Vanjie’s annoyed expression melt, the other man nearly dropping his jaw.

“Fuck that shit-” Vanjie lifted the edge of the duvet. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” Vanjie patted the bed.

Brooke walked over, crawling into bed, Vanjie putting the duvet down on top of him, and even tucking down the edges. 

“Now go the fuck to sleep.” Vanjie reached over him and turned off the lights before he laid down too, popping his head on Brooke’s shoulder. “Idiot.”

Brooke felt the weight of Vanjie’s head, the scent of him filling his nostrils since he was so close, and while Brooke was absolutely sure Vanjie was still mad at him, and while he dreaded the morning that was to come, it helped his eyes fall shut that he was at least allowed this comfort for another night, Vanjie already breathing heavily next to him.

///

Vanjie never woke up first, but today, he had laid in bed for half an hour, eyes wide open as he went through the events of the night that had passed.

It was a true sign of how exhausted Brooke was that he was still sleeping, his boyfriend curled in on himself, his legs to his chest. Vanjie touched him, running a hand over his back, but Brooke simply groaned, pushing him away, and Vanjie realised that he still needed sleep, so got up.

The first thing he did was clean up the kitchen, collecting the shards of glass so all of the animals were safe. Riley was waiting by the door, the dog coming with a surprised and confused woof when it was Vanjie who bent down to click in his lease and not Brooke, but Vanjie needed time to think, a walk with his dog a good excuse to get his thoughts in order.

As they made their way down the road towards the little park Riley always visited, Vanjie checked his phone. 

A’keria and Silky had both texted him, Silky sounding concerned in the several messages he had sent, the last one ending with a question of whenever or not Vanjie was dead since he always replied right away, while A’keria had mainly asked if he had gotten that good dick.

Vanjie took a deep breath through his nose, annoyance prickling in his fingertips. He was still mad at Brooke, still angry with everything that had happened, but instead of telling his friends about it, instead of seeking their advice as he usually would, Vanjie simply told Silky that he was alive, before he slipped his phone back in his pocket.

When Vanjie returned home, he found Brooke in the kitchen making breakfast, the pets bowls filled which Riley was very happy about. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

///

“So, we gonna talk about this shit?” Vanjie was sitting on his side of their little kitchen table, Riley sleeping on the bench next to him.

Brooke almost wanted to groan into his breakfast. He had hoped that eggs and toast made exactly the way Vanjie liked it would give him a little time to feel out their vibe, that he’d have a moment to settle and figure out how he was feeling, but he was also with Vanjie, and Vanjie always went straight for the throat.

“I thought we said too much shit.” Brooke mimicked what Vanjie had said, and then immediately regretted it when he saw the look on Vanjie’s face. “Sorry.”

If Brooke was honest, and there was nothing that provided clarity like a good old fashioned panic attack, he was ashamed, he was embarrassed, and he wished he didn't excist.

He had acted like a child, his anxiety dragging him down, and Brooke hadn’t reflected on his actions at all, just done the first thing that had come into his head like an absolute idiot.

“Why you acting?” Vanjie reached out, touching Brooke’s hand, and Brooke zoomed in on the feeling of Vanjie’s skin against his, his boyfriends thumb gently rubbing over his knuckles.

Brooke didn’t deserve Vanjie’s love, didn’t deserve his consideration, didn’t deserve his care, and he could already feel the word vomit spilling from his mouth.

“Acting like what?” His tone was harsh, Vanjie reacting in turn and shooting him a look that told him to stop his bullshit, Brooke cringing since he knew he was being unfair.

“Sorry…” Brooke sighed, the word quickly losing it’s meaning even though that was exactly what he felt like. “Again.”

“Tell me what the fuck we doing.” Vanjie looked at Brooke. “You worrying me. You prickly as a porcupine, yesterday you went crazy volcano style, erupting all over-”

Brooke could feel his anxiety bubbling, but he refused to give in, refused to let his fucked up brain ruin one of the best things he had even more.

“- Everything went straight to shit after you left for no reason-“

“I had to leave.” Brooke cut in, needing to make Vanjie understand, needing to make him see.

“Why?”

Brooke paused, his cheeks growing red. He felt so ashamed of how he had acted, how he had reacted, everything that had happened all coming down to the fact that he was apparently some overreacting asshole that couldn’t allow his boyfriend any freedom at all.

“The stage-“ Brooke gestured, attempting to squash the panic in his chest, his tone light. “All of it-“

“I know your ass don’t give a fuck what I do on stage-” Vanjie released his hand, and Brooke almost wanted to chase after him, wanted to capture him, but Vanjie crossed his arms.

“That’s normally true-”

Vanjie snorted, and Brooke realised once again that he was saying the wrong thing. Brooke would go insane if anyone attempted to control him, to tell him what he could and couldn’t do, but Vanjie was so very different.

“-But yesterday I- On stage- You liked him-”

“Who?” Vanjie’s brows were wrinkled in confusion.

“You know who.” Brooke hated that he had to say it, but he didn’t believe that Vanjie wasn’t aware, didn’t believe that Vanjie didn’t know exactly what had happened.

“Bitch, why you think I’ma lying about this.”

Brooke groaned, but he refused to make a fight of it, refused to give in to his own desires so he looked down.“I’m talking about the guy from the show last night, the one who went on stage with you-” Brooke felt his stomach turn, his eyes nailed to the table. “You liked him.”

“Holy shit.” Brooke’s head snapped up, Vanjie sitting with his mouth open, his eyes wide, and it was not at all the reaction that Brooke had expected. “A’keria and Silky was right.”

“A’keria and Silky?” Brooke felt anger flicker in his chest, and this time, he didn’t push it down. “What do they have to do with anything?

“Last night-”

“Last night?”Brooke hated it when Vanjie talked about their private life with Silky and A’keria, and he especailly hated how Vanjie and Silky often dissected their arguments down to a he said I said level, going through everything that had happened like a couple of teenage girls. “When?”

Brooke talked to people to, so it wasn’t like he was a saint, but he had several people in his life that he shared things with, and never in detail, Brooke always shared in the broadest terms, often simply mentioning that he and Vanjie had a fight to Steve if he really needed someone to talk to.

With Silky, it was different, since Brooke could always see it on his face when Vanjie had gone on one of his rants-

“Before we left.”

A breath of relief left Brooke, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

“They said you were jelly-” Brooke’s head snapped up again. Had A’keria and Silky said he was jealous? “but I didn’t believe them.”

“Well-” Brooke crossed his arms, the two of them sitting opposite of each other, “- maybe you should have.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me.” Vanjie shot up, anger clear in his voice.

“You’re the one who-” Brooke groaned, standing up too, his own palms hitting the table. “You’re the one who giggled!”

“Giggled?” Vanjie froze in place, his brows wrinkling. He pulled back, surprised painted on his features. “Giggled?” He sounded like he didn’t believe Brooke, and he could absolutely understand it, his words sounding insane to his own ears too. “The fuck is wrong with that? You telling me I can’t laugh?”

“It wasn’t a laugh-” Brooke huffed, his shoulders slumping. “It was-”

“Giggling mean some different shit in Canada?” Vanjie raised an eyebrow. “Cause they the same-”

“No.” Brooke snapped, knowing that he was being unfair. “No it’s not. You were all-” Brooke dumped down in his chair, looking up at Vanjie. “It was- You had that look, like-”

“Oh...” Vanjie waited for a beat, taking Brooke’s words in. “You telling me that I rub my junk on men on the reg, and you don’t give two shits about that, but giggling gives you the fucking blue?”

“It’s not the same thing, it’s not…” Brooke felt ridiculous, and he looked down. “I don’t give two shits when you’re giving a lapdance, I know that doesn’t mean anything to you-”

“Fuck no.” Vanjie huffed, looking almost insulted that Brooke would even dare to suggest it. “But I still don’t-”

“The giggle is mine.”

Vanjie blushed deeply, an almost shy expression taking over his face. Brooke could see that Vanjie was relishing in his words, the agressive tone he had said them with even surprising himself, but Vanjie had clearly loved it.

“You mean that stud?” Vanjie was smiling, a smirk blooming on his face, delighted posessiveness filling his features. “You thinking you owe my giggle?”

“I don’t but-” Brooke bit his lip. “No. I do. I fucking do.”

Vanjie groaned, the sound almost sexual, like Vanjie was drowning in pleasure at his words and Brooke watched as Vanjie got up, almost knocking over his water as he made his way around the table.

Vanjie curled his arms around Brooke’s neck, and Brooke instantly grabbed Vanjie’s hip, habit taking over as his boyfriend settled in his lap, the chair way too narrow, but Vanjie didn’t care, his knees pressing into the outside of Brooke’s thighs.

“You were jealous.”

Brooke was drowning in the sense of Vanjie, his hand in his hair, gently combing through the baby hairs at the back of his neck, his voice so low it was barely a whisper, honey mixed with gravel as Vanjie’s signature growl was just undernearth.

Brooke wondered if he should pull way, but it was impossible, so instead he rested his head on Vanjie’s shoulder.

“That’s not the word I’d use-” Brooke mumbled, his lips against Vanjie’s neck, the scent there exactly what he needed.

“You were.” Vanjie tightened his grip, pulling on Brooke’s hair to force him to look at him, their eyes meeting.

“Was not.” Brooke touched Vanjie’s thigh, his hand running up up up until he could fiddle with the cut on Vanjie’s shorts. 

“Was too.” Vanjie smirked.

“Mmh.” Brooke attempted to burrow his head again, but Vanjie wouldn’t let him, instead forcing Brooke to sit up straight, their faces right in front of each other.

“Bitch, If you got the jelly that bad-” 

Brooke snorted-

“-how come you didn’t say nothing?” Vanjie looked geniunly worried, and Brooke felt terrible about how easily he had dismissed it all just moments before. “I could’ave told you I don’t give a fuck about him-”

“I had a panic attack.” Brooke hated saying it, but it felt right to be honest. “Not in the kitchen, but, at the club-” It felt shameful that he had had two panic attacks in a day, even though he had spend years trying to convince himself that it was okay, that it was simply the way his brain was wired.

“What?” Vanjie tugged on his hair. “You telling me the truth?”

Brooke nodded. “When I saw you on stage-” Brooke sighed, his eyes focused past Vanjie’s heads. “I’ve never felt anything like that before- I’ve never felt anything like that ever before.”

Vanjie didn’t interrupt, and Brooke wondered if he had actually somehow managed to schok Vanjie into silence, it was however, also his chance to actually say everything that was on his mind.

“All I could think about was you leaving me, how we were going to divide custody of the pets, the loan on the apartment, everything was spiraling and I-"

“You really thought I was leaving you?” Vanjie’s voice was so small, so questioning, and Brooke didn’t dare look in his eyes, didn’t dare see how he was feeling.

“Yes, and I-”

Brooke was cut off when he felt something wet drip down on his lap, a sniffle coming from the man in front of him, and Brooke realised that Vanjie was crying, tears streaming down his face.

“Jose?” Brooke’s hand flew up, settling on Vanjie’s chin. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck Mami-” Vanjie sniffled. “What you thinking that? Why you? Don’t play that game.” Vanjie tightened his grip, holding Brooke even closer. “You know I ain’t ever leaving your ass.”

Brooke felt a stone fall from his heart, Vanjie’s words filled with so much conviction, so much truth, that Brooke knew that he absolutely meant it. 

“What kind of fucked up romantic-” Vanjie mumbled to himself, a rant probably brewing in his chest but Brooke cut it off by reaching up, gently wiping his tears away.

“Romantic?”

“This some real telenovela type shit.” Vanjie laughed a little, tears still falling from his eyes even though Brooke was holding him. “I giggle for a guy-” Vanjie wiped his nose, “and you go off the deep end ready to talk to the bank?”

“Not just the bank-”

“It don’t seem-” Vanjie smiled, his eyes wet. “It don’t seem like I’m the crazy one in this relationship no more.”

“I was crazy, I am, crazy.” Brooke bite his lip, holding Vanjie’s hip even tighter. “The way I acted was fucked up.”

Brooke meant it, and he hoped that he’d never ever do anything like it again.

“I’m really sorry if this- If that’s how you feel when I-”

“It ain’t fun.” Vanjie growled, and Brooke looked up at him. “But it who you are. You don’t mean shit with it, even if you always getting free drinks.”

Brooke chuckled, the fact that Vanjie could make him laugh even though he felt terrible one of the reasons they worked so very well together.

“You my crazy.” Vanjie leaned in, their lips touching and Brooke swore he could taste the tears, the kiss filling his entire body with warmth, the connection promising him that the worst was over. Brooke broke their kiss, pulling back slightly.

“Are we okay?”

“Okay? You my weird, anxious, not jealous dramatic ass giggle hating boyfriend.” Vanjie kissed him again, and Brooke held him even closer, their chests pressed tightly together. “I ain’t interested in no other junk but yours baby.”

Brooke smiled, giving Vanjie a sweet and quick peck. “I don’t actually hate giggles.”

“Even if you did,” Vanjie smirked. “I don’t want no one but you.”

Brooke blushed. “I-” Vanjie’s attention was like the sun, and Brooke realised how terribly he had missed it, how much of an idiot he had been.

“Say you mine.” Vanjie leaned in, whispering. “And I’ma keep you forever.”

“I’m yours Jose, for however long you want me.”


End file.
